Chapter 5

Flavius Again

Finally, the day arrived for the games. Portia felt it was one of those perfect days when the sun kissed her cheeks and the breeze caressed her hair. She felt joviality on the wind and pleasure’s sweet abandon among Rome’s citizens. She could almost see the excitement of the people strike like lightening between the seven hills and connect her feet to a joy in the earth. 

Caesar said to her, before they left for the procession,  “I will be riding with the magistrates today, so I have made arrangements for you to join some of my friends at the Temple of Venus.  When the procession finally gets to the Circus Maximus they will bring you to our seats.” 

“How will I know them Father? There will be a lot of people on the streets,” Portia asked.

“No need to worry. I have everything arranged. Lucius will fetch you before I leave.  I want you to enjoy this visit and I have taken care of all the details.”

Later, the steward announced Lucius Cornelius Balbus. Caesar got up to greet him as he came through the atrium.  With a genuine smile, he said, “Balbus, my good friend,” putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder,  “I want you to meet my daughter, Portia.” 

Lucius was of medium height, not quite as tall as the average Roman; having a swarthy complexion from spending much of his time outdoors. Lucius was not noted for his looks, as he was rather ordinary looking, but one would remember him because of the way he put words together when he addressed you.  Not that his words were insincere, but he had a way of making his friends feel important.

Lucius said very pleasantly, “Your father has spoken of you so many times, I feel I already know you. I have been looking forward to meeting you.” 

Caesar said, “Portia, Lucius originally comes from Gades.  Flavius and I met him when we were in Further Spain, where we experienced his loyalty to Rome.  His family fought against the rebel Quintus Sertorius, and in her gratitude, Rome gave them citizenship.  Lucius’ advancement was to my benefit, as I find him to be a man of many skills.”

Lucius said, “Caesar, you flatter me.”

“And why not?” Caesar said. “As my chief of engineers, serving as hospes publicus, you will be just as important to me as you are as the spokesman for Gades; in her dealings with Rome.  What better place to have a good friend for both our benefit?”

“Well, you do speak truth about the relationship, Caesar.  Gades has the raw resources Rome needs and is located in a spot that is useful to Rome, both for trade, and military transport.  And, of course, Rome offers many advantages to Gades.”

Caesar laughed. “Portia, this is one of the things I like about Lucius.  He is such a natural politician and he doesn’t even try to be one!” He looked at Lucius as he said,  “I told you the man has skills. I can see that we will be helpful to one another.”

Portia looked at the two of them. “I can see why you are such good friends.  You are well matched.” To Lucius, she said, “I am glad to have the opportunity to make the acquaintance of a friend of my father’s.”

Lucius didn’t answer Portia with words, but rather looked at her with his eyes sparkling, and slightly bowed his head.  His smile said it all.  He made Portia feel that he was delighted to be in her company.

Portia, Lucius said, “Perhaps we should be on our way before your father starts on another round of flattery. There are others waiting for us, and it will take some time to get to the temple.”

“Yes,” said Caesar, looking at Portia, “your grandmother, Aurelia, will join us at the games and her litter bearers should already have brought her to the temple portico.”

Portia said enthusiastically, “You didn’t tell me she would join us. What fun!”

“I told you I had surprises for you Portia, and I do.”  

The Ludi Romani, or Ludi Magni, (The Great Games), was perhaps the major religious festival, honoring Jupiter Optimus Maximus, the Romans’ patron god. Romans loved pomp and majesty, and they were going to get plenty of it today.  The procession would start at the Capitol, wend its way through the Forum and after several hours of colorful pageantry, end at the Circus Maximus with a sacrifice of oxen to the gods, presided over by the consuls, Lucius Julius Caesar and Gaius Marcius Figulus.  

When Portia and Lucius arrived at the temple, Aurelia was already there.  Aurelia was a little taller than her son, with graying streaks finding a way through her luxurious, amber colored hair.  She put her arms around Portia and said, “Child, you get more beautiful every time I see you. You are blossoming like a flower.”

Portia hugged her grandmother and kissed her on the cheek. “Grandmother, you sound like my father. Your being here today makes my day complete.” Since her mother died, Aurelia was her only relative who lived in Rome, her father being away so much of the time.

Aurelia answered, “I guess this is a day of surprises for you because your aunt Atia is here, with her husband Gaius Octavius.  They have come all the way from Velitrae just to celebrate your father’s grand games today. They have been visiting with me since yesterday. Twenty-five miles of travel is tiresome, even with good roads.”

Portia hugged her aunt and uncle, saying, “Aunt Atia, Uncle Gaius, Father didn’t tell me you would be here.  I guess he was saving this surprise.  I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be among family.”

The procession was about to reach the temple where the small group waited, and it seemed as if a sea of people pressed forward to see the spectacle.  Before anything came into view, they heard the flutes and the lyres. The music got louder as the procession approached, the breeze blowing the colorful ribbons tied to the musicians’ instruments.

First came the consuls and magistrates, slitting straight and proud on their horses, some of them wearing crowns of olive leaves on their heads, their horse’s hooves clamoring on the stones.

“Portia,” called Lucius, “there is your father!”

Caesar stood proudly and with dignity in a magnificent chariot richly decorated with eagles holding laurel wreaths in one of its talons.  This, being pulled by four perfectly groomed horses, turned out with ornate silver trappings, and chiming bells on their halters.   Over a longer scarlet toga, Caesar wore a white, voluminous, embroidered silk from Tyre. With one hand he reined in the horses, and the other, wielded an ivory staff topped by an eagle.  On his head, he wore a crown of golden leaves.  This was the dress reserved for the magistrate who organized this spectacle, and Caesar wore it well.

The crowd went wild with adulation; some threw flowers at his path, cheering and applauding, and screaming out his name. The pomp and glory of Rome was Caesar’s today, and Portia and the family shared in his moment of great pride.  Caesar pulled back his steeds, while he saluted his family with the ivory staff, and Portia threw him kisses as he rode past. He would not forget this moment, and neither would she.

Aurelia stood stately, smiling and waving, while the rest applauded and shouted, “Caesar, Caesar.”

In her enthusiasm, Portia turned around and hugged Lucius, saying, “This is so exciting, I can hardly contain myself!”

Lucius leaned towards her and with a smile said, “Your presence has made your father happy, and I am glad to be with you sharing this moment.” 

Young men on horseback and on foot followed the magistrates.  The leather harnesses on the horses tinkled with bronze pendants, while the braided bridles and their leather straps of adornment almost covered the horse’s neck.  The men who walked were the new recruits, and the riders were their most experienced instructors. Sometimes they pranced their horses sideways towards the spectators, giving the crowd some extra thrills. The women screamed in delight and threw flowers at the riders.

Charioteers came next, driving two- and four-horse teams.  The number had a religious meaning: four-horse teams were dedicated to Sol, while the ones with two honored Luna. Each charioteer wore the color of his team - either blue, green, white or red. Each team had its following among the people, who cheered and shouted loudly as their favorite passed.  As always, much money would be wagered on the races, and there were usually a few fights as well.

Portia’s heart gave a lurch within her chest when she saw him. There he was, parading in a simple gray tunic, since he was a member of none of the teams. To her, this seemed more appropriate than his persona as a centurion. This was a man who was uncomplicated and without pretension.  And when she saw him, she knew at last, that the torment she was feeling at the villa was love. She was in love with him!

He had neither armor nor weapons, and the breeze played among his curls. He was much taller and more muscular than the average Roman, so he stood out among all the other charioteers.  He flashed his engaging smile to the people, waving one hand, while controlling his spirited horses with apparent ease.  To Portia, he looked like nothing less than a god.

It seemed like such a long time since Portia had last seen him. Standing in front of the temple of Venus, her protectress, the goddess of love, she said out loud,  “Bring me this man!” and she was answered with a flash of light.

After the chariots, came the athletes who were going to compete in other events. The men marched dressed only in their loincloths; oil glistened on their sun-bronzed skin. They were followed by more flute and lyre players, because next were the war dancers, who danced in the streets in their red tunics and bronze belts; they wore bronze crested helmets and carried swords and short spears.

Since the Romans had a penchant for mixing the bawdy with the solemn, the war dancers were followed by men dressed as hairy satyrs, who mimicked the flashy, military dancers who had preceded them. How the crowd loved it and shouted their approval!

Amidst all the tumult and music, there were the usual purveyors of food, moving back and forth as they hawked their wares to the public.

Lucius pointed to the women carrying incense and gold and silver vessels, to be used for the sacrifice, and said to Portia, “Romans know how to do honor to their gods.” 

These were the Vestal Virgins who participated in all religious ceremonies. They were the priestesses who guarded the sacred fire of Vesta, the Roman goddess of the hearth. Her fire had to burn continuously, or else Rome’s good fortunes would change.  The virgins were the brides of Rome, combed their hair as such, and wore a white, purple-bordered veil on their head. 

“Yes,” Portia answered, “very few women in Rome are so honored. They are able to administer their own affairs without a guardian.”

Lucius did not reply, but could relate to Portia’s fierce independence. Lucius learned a long time ago that everyone wants to be free.

And there, behind the vessel carriers, were the images of the gods. These were small gold statues of the Capitoline Triad: Jupiter, king of heaven, earth, justice, and other gods; Juno, the queen of gods and the protector of women, and Minerva, the goddess of wisdom and knowledge.  These were carried on fercula, canvas stretched between poles that rested on the shoulders of the bearers, and were followed by the sacrificial animals.

As the procession passed the spectators, they would join in following them, adding to the great swell of people making their way to the Circus.

Portia, Aurelia and the rest, joined the procession as it wended its way to the Circus Maximus where they joined Caesar, who was already waiting for them in his box. Portia put her arms around her father’s neck, and because of the din of the crowd, whispered in his ear, “Today, Father, you have shown me the splendor of Rome and I am in awe of it.” He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek, as there was nothing else he could add.

Caesar helped his mother to her seat, and Aurelia leaned close to him and said, “Son, I have watched you with a mother’s heart, and I always thought you were destined for greatness.  After today, I am sure.” Atia, Gaius, Lucius, and the others, greeted Caesar and offered their praise as they took their seats

It was there, in front of the seated crowd, that the consuls took their turn to preside over the ritual.  The attendant priests ritually washed their hands, then, purified the oxen with clean water.  They sprinkled the oxen with mola salsa, a sort of loose cake made from spelt, which had been gathered and roasted by the Vestal Virgins, who stood nearby.

Once that was done, the consuls ordered the attendants to carry out the sacrifice. Each attendant held a knife beneath the throat of an animal.  Others thumped the oxen on the temple, causing them to fall on the knife and be slain.  By falling on the blade, the oxen were held to have killed themselves, absolving the sacrificer from bloodguilt. 

The animals were then butchered.  A piece from the inward parts was seasoned with mola salsa and the priests carried it in special baskets to the altar, where it was set on fire and wine poured over it while it was burning, to the roar and satisfaction of the crowd.  This was the gods’ share, the smoke providing them with their means of survival. The remainder was cut up and distributed amongst the participants present.  There wasn’t enough to go around since over two hundred thousand people packed the stands.  To receive a portion of the sacrifice was a great honor. Since Caesar organized these games, he and his family, after the consuls, received a portion, and he ordered the rest distributed among the people.

Finally, the great moment that all waited for.  The teams took their places and the charioteers waited for the signal.  Caesar himself, as editor, began the games and threw a white cloth, called a mappa from his box onto the track. The attendants of the race drew open the gates that kept the horses enclosed, and the race began!

The races were popular because there was constant action, and a great amount of strategy and strength was needed.  The course itself was a long oval with a line that divided the middle, called the spina. At each end were located conical markers called metae – the goals. These metae supported seven conical balls, called ova, from their resemblance to eggs. They were used to keep count of the number of laps, which had been run, one ova put up as each lap was completed. At the extreme end of the circus, near the entrance gates were the stalls for the horses and chariots.  At the opposite end was the Porta Libitinensis, the gate through which the bodies of those killed in the games were carried out.

Portia saw some men on the field who wore similar tunics, and questioned Lucius, since her father was talking to some of the other spectators, “What job do those men have?”

Lucius strained to see who Portia was referring to and answered, “They are the crew on hand in case of a crash.  It is the job of these men to try and rescue the charioteer and keep the horses from running away.”

She was thinking of Flavius as she answered, “I didn’t know there was so much danger that a special crew was needed to rescue charioteers.”

“Portia, there is a great amount of money to be won and the games will become very violent in the competition.  There is no shame if you do not watch” was Lucius’ response.

She thought of the man in the gray tunic and knew she would be compelled to watch.

Lucius explained, “The strategy of the drivers is to hug the inside rail, passing close to the metae on their left. Of course this depends greatly on the dexterity of the two horses and the driver, because there is only a rope tying the horses to the yoke.  What the drivers are attempting to do is to get in front of the other riders and slow them down, hopefully knocking them out of the race, or forcing them close enough to the rail so they smash into it.”  

Portia could give no answer, but prayed to the gods to watch over Flavius.

There he was, horses and chariot, leaving the box in a great burst of speed, his body etched against the shadows.  She could see how his muscles rippled, the strength of his arms as he worked the reins. She was awed by the pure physical power of the man. 

As Flavius completed the first few laps around the long oval, Portia feared for his safety multiple times.  Some of the drivers near him were thrown from their chariots in a tangle of flying chariots, men and beasts.  Still, he skillfully maneuvered around them, saving himself and his horses from injury. 

Portia had never seen such things before, and found herself standing up with the rest of the Romans, cheering with approval.  “Oh Flavius, you are much too reckless, but how you can skirt danger.  No wonder you are one of the gods favorite sons!”

Caesar stood up and shouted, “Faster, Flavius, faster.”

 The animal’s hooves pounded the earth as they flew by; Portia felt the vibration of their energy in the stands. One of the chariots flipped over. The charioteer cut himself loose from the reins before he was injured, but two other unfortunate drivers couldn’t get out of the way in time and were killed.  Their horses galloped about wildly until the crash team caught them.

Portia shouted to her grandmother, “I can see from the markers that there are only three more laps to run.”

“Yes,” shouted Aurelia, “this is one of the most exciting races I have ever watched.” 

Portia whispered to herself, “Flavius, I fear for your safety; I don’t know if I can watch the rest of this.”

With Flavius leading the remaining drivers, the spectators cheered louder and more frequently. Many had obviously wagered that Flavius would win.  Portia wanted him to win, too, and it looked like he had a good chance!

Lucius leaned over to Portia. “Races such as these are won in the last few moments. Watch carefully.”

The remaining charioteers drove abreast, wheel against wheel, and, at this point, skill turned into pure violence.  Now, the charioteers no longer wanted only to hamper their adversaries, but tried to overturn them, driving their chariots against each other in hopes of breaking an opponent’s axle, or running directly into the rear of the chariot just ahead.

It was the last turn, and it seemed to be a close race between Flavius and the driver for the green team. The crowd stood and shouted their approval. The race was so close.  Who would get there first? Sometimes, one was in the lead, sometimes the other.

Portia yelled at her father, “I never dreamed it would be like this! Flavius is so close to the finish.”

To Lucius she called, “I am still not quite sure who will win. It looks like…I am not sure…Flavius WON!”

The trumpets sounded their praise.  As editor, Caesar went down to the field and Flavius proudly drove up to receive his prizes. Caesar placed the crown of laurel leaves on his head and handed him the palm branch as the crowd yelled and applauded their approval.

When Caesar returned to the stands, Aurelia said to him, “Son, Atia, Gaius and I are leaving now, as I am expecting guests at my home.  If you and Portia have a chance later, stop and visit.  Everything was superb.  You did a wonderful job.  You did Rome and your mother proud.”

Caesar kissed her on the cheek, saying, “Cicero is the consul-elect and is expecting me tonight.  I can’t refuse him. Also, Rome again has troubles with some conspirators.  Tonight is a chance for some of us senators to confer with one another before the next debates.  I doubt I will be free to see you tonight.”  

He looked at Portia, “I think it would be appropriate for us to summon Flavius, so we can congratulate him on his fine exhibition, don’t you?” With that, Caesar sent a messenger to fetch the centurion.

I can’t believe it. All those times I yearned for him in private, and now my father just summons him.  Surely the gods favor me!  What will I say to him? How will he react to me?

When Flavius answered Caesar’s command, he obviously had no idea that Portia would be there.  He came rushing in, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his face. He was visibly taken aback when he saw her, but only she noticed his reaction.

Although her heart pounded also, she managed to keep her composure. No one could see the excitement surging through her body. As the sweat dripped from his face, she yearned to be beneath him so it would fall on her breasts.

Flavius was completely disarmed. He looked into that face, and, wondered why that face was there. He had tried so hard to get her image out of his mind’s eye. Many nights at the barracks, his body had gotten hard from his thinking of her, and here she was, that same curl falling over her forehead. He ached to wind that curl around his finger and tease her with it, but knew he couldn’t.  Nonplussed, he just stood panting while everyone congratulated him.

Caesar clasped Flavius’ hand, and smilingly pounded his shoulder; there was great joy upon both of their faces. 

Flavius laughed and asked, “Perhaps Caesar would care for a guided tour of the barracks,” clutching at every possible means to keep them there for a few moments longer, even if it were something as silly as offering to show them the barracks.

It didn’t seem possible, but Caesar said, “Yes, I think I would, I haven’t seen some of the new arrangements yet. I plan to train with the men soon, and this might be an opportune time to know more about them ” He turned to Lucius, “Won’t you join us?”

“Another time Caesar, Cicero is expecting me now. I will see you later tonight.”

As Flavius led the way toward the exit, he knew Portia was walking behind him, and clenched his fists to prevent himself from sweeping her into his arms. As they made their way towards the barracks, Caesar kept talking intently to Flavius.  Flavius was trying to pay attention to the conversation and thought he managed to answer and contribute at the correct times, but every sense in his body was riveted to that diminutive white-clad figure, holding Caesar’s arm.

“I haven’t spoken to you in a while,” Caesar said.  “Have the men taken well to swimming in full battle kit with their horses?”

“We are making progress, but I am not confident of their skill yet,” Flavius answered. “Presently, we are working in water with faster currents than the Tiber, and the men are having difficulty keeping up with their steeds. They are getting separated from them before we reach the other bank, and they are not swimming in formation yet.  If there are no currents, they seem to do a respectable job.”

“I am pleased with your efforts. It is a step in the right direction,” Caesar commented. “Are the men swimming on the upstream side of the horses so not  to be swept away?”

“Yes, we are doing as you suggested,” Flavius answered, “I think we will just have to train and build the body more.  The men need to be stronger.”

They were approaching the temporary barracks located in the fort on Caelian Hill.  Roman army engineers built their forts on ground that sloped slightly down towards the main gate, so the fort lay on the northward slope of the Caelius, looking towards the city, and had a defensive wall around it.  A horse could drink nine gallons of water a day and here the Aqua Marcia and Aqua Julia provided plenty of fresh water for them.

The headquarters building was in the center of the fort and consisted of a main hall, and a chapel of the standards, where the legion banners hung.

As they entered, Flavius pointed out as they walked up the wooden steps, “We are planning green marble steps in the future.”

Portia found the chapel of the standards an interesting room.  “I saw men carrying some of these in the procession today, what do they mean?”

“The eagle reminds us of Jupiter, and that is why there are thunderbolts in its claws. A wolf, Minotaur, horse or boar might have been used earlier, but during his wars, Marius, made the eagle supreme and the other symbols were abolished,” Flavius explained.

Portia noted that, “SPQR,” was on some of the standards, the senate and the people of Rome.” 

Caesar then explained to her the different ways that the standard bearer gave the men signals on the battlefield and rallied the men.

Portia commented, “I didn’t know how revered the standards were to the men, until I saw them, today, decorated with garlands of flowers.” 

And Flavius added, “And anointed with oils.  The cavalry also carries the vexillum, this small square piece of cloth which is hung on this crows-bar and pole so the men know that battle is about to begin.”

As they walked through the office, Flavius added, “We are planning to put four offices at the entrance, and an underground strong room for storing treasure.  Of course, the ‘noble hall’ was one of the first things we built. This will be the place where the men can set up altars to the gods in thanksgiving for promotion, or for the gods’ having allowed the men to return safely to Rome.”

Already, there were a few altars arranged along the walls, and some niches with the statues of Jupiter, Juno and Minerva.

Flavius looked at Caesar and said, “The same green marble that we plan to use for the steps will be placed on this floor.”

Caesar looked down the hall and without speaking to anyone is particular said, “Cicero claims that Rome owes her greatness to the trust of her people in the gods.”

Flavius added, “I would agree with Cicero. Rome’s greatness is because of the favor of her gods.” He continued, “This hall is our shrine and religious sanctuary. The soldiers love their gods and standards so much, that if a soldier loses one in battle he will be punished and demoted. There is danger of death on the battlefield, and the soldiers’ devotion to their gods gives them comfort.”

Describing the barrack rooms, Flavius said, “They will be about fifteen feet long and nearly the same width, each housing about seven soldiers.”

Outside was a broad veranda where the soldiers liked to eat. Caesar walked over to the veranda with his hands on his hips, and took in the view, saying, “There is nothing like eating outside in the fresh air with some sunshine for company.

They continued on through the barracks.  When they reached a narrow doorway, Flavius hung back to let Caesar and his daughter precede him. As Portia passed him, following her father, Flavius inhaled the familiar sweet smell of her skin, a treasured memory he carried with him. And there it was again, that aroma of who she was. 

Portia said, “I noticed in the procession today that some of the riders had plumed and eagle-headed helmets, with eagle-head sword pommels. Some of the horses they rode were covered with leopard and lion skins.  Were those men from this fort?”

“Yes,” Flavius answered. “Rome loves to deck herself out with military pomp, and one task of the Guard is to lend splendor to the capital.  I have to say, we love it too.”

After the tour, Caesar said to Flavius, “Some other senators and myself and Portia, are going to Cicero’s home for feasting. Afterwards, I want you to escort her back to my home. We men have some pressing matters to discuss in private.” He went on to tell him the hour when he was to fetch Portia and to give him directions to Cicero’s house.

Before leaving, Portia smiled at him, “I learned a lot today, Flavius, Thank you for the tour.”

Of course, she heard the conversation between her father and Flavius.  I will be alone with Flavius. I can’t believe it!

Upon preparing to leave, Caesar discussed with Flavius the hour he was to retrieve Portia and gave him directions.

At the appointed hour, Flavius went to fulfill his duty. As he walked, the sun was in the early stages of setting, and the colors in the sky started to change. He had tried so hard to put thoughts of Portia out of his mind, and as the days passed, he thought he had achieved some success.  He couldn’t understand why the gods had placed her in his company again.  It was almost like they were toying with him and his emotions.  Was this a test of some sort, or was there a deeper meaning to this?

When he reached Cicero’s home, Flavius found that he was expected. He was ushered at once into the dining area.  Some of the guests still reclined near tables filled with exotic foods from all over the world, and attentive slaves watched to fulfill any need.

Portia stood in the far corner talking to Lucius Cornelius Balbus.  There seemed to be a glow in her eyes and her skin looked radiant.  Flavius reflected that this radiance was what she really was; there was nothing pretentious about her in her bearing. He heard her laugh and he wanted to see her happy, but he realized he also wanted her laughter and her radiance to be shared with him.

After nodding a farewell to Lucius, Portia began walking towards Flavius. Flavius noticed that Lucius watched her as she moved across the floor with grace. Some old men full of prestige and power manage to wed young beauties such as this, because of the favor they could bring to the family.

No doubt, Lucius would like nothing better than to become Caesar’s son-in-law – but would there be enough advantage to Caesar in such a match?  If there were, Caesar, as paterfamilias of the family, could promise Portia to him – to anyone – and she would have no recourse under the law other than to acquiesce. Lucius seems like a respectable man, but I can’t imagine him satisfying her in bed. Portia has a sweet exterior, but I see her as one having strong passion.

As she got closer to Flavius, he heard the silk of her gown rustle around her ankles as she walked. He fought the urge to grab her and enfold her in his arms and smother her with kisses.  She stood in front of him, with that curl falling over her forehead that refused to be tamed.  He looked into her eyes; they seemed to be full of the merriment of the gathering, or was that some mischief he saw there?

Caesar was deep in conversation with Cicero, but paused long enough to give his daughter a nod and a smile.

She looked up at Flavius, “My father and I have already discussed our activities for the rest of the evening and I am ready to leave now.”  Flavius just smiled at her and brought his arm to his chest in a salute, then led her to the door in silence

Caesar's Daughter and the Centurion © 2001

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